


signs and portents

by qwanderer



Series: stand eye to eye with gods and men [2]
Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Costis talks to gods, Gen, Thick as Thieves Spoilers, oh what spoilers we had, spoilers for days, they were delicious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 21:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10975350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwanderer/pseuds/qwanderer
Summary: Costis had seen many people with little to no use for gods. They simply lived their lives. But among the guard, and among Attolia's soldiers, there were very few who had not spent the kind of moment when all you could do was pray. Prayer was important to soldiers.And more than most, Costis knew enough not to discount the words of a god, even a god he had only just learned of.





	signs and portents

**Author's Note:**

> This spoils Thick as Thieves!

The step-well of Ne Malia was like nothing Costis had ever seen. 

Kamet was peering around in as much awe as he was, until they got down to the priest, and then he looked bored and skeptical. 

That was understandable. Costis had seen many people with little to no use for gods. They simply lived their lives. But among the guard, and among Attolia's soldiers, there were very few who had not spent the kind of moment when all you could do was pray. Prayer was important to soldiers. 

And more than most, Costis knew enough not to discount the words of a god, even a god he had only just learned of. 

So Costis listened carefully when the priest spoke in his ear. 

_Remember Immakuk. Pay the fastener._

When he repeated the message to Kamet, Kamet just shrugged as if he expected something had been lost in translation. 

Life was life, to Kamet. The hands of gods could not be seen, in his world. Costis wasn't sure what Kamet believed in. But he knew the stories. He took pleasure in the telling. So Costis listened. Perhaps the gods were speaking through him. 

The next story Kamet told, Costis listened with all his might. Immakuk went to beg help from a goddess who had once been human. He asked her, "Show us the road to mercy and forgiveness." 

The problem was solved, in the end, when the witch was given another chance to be kind, to be part of a world where people loved each other. She took that chance. 

Costis would remember. 

* * *

The gasp only registered as a prayer in retrospect. 

He reached out, by instinct, maybe, or by virtue of part of him remembering the way Gen had done so. And for the second time in his life, he knew the presence of a god. 

He knew the sort of respect people thought due to a god, but this was not Miras. This was not a god of the masses, as Attolis liked to say. This was not a god where form and routine were expected. This was the god of the Thief of Eddis, and very few others, including, of late, himself. This was the god who'd told Gen, as a friend, to stop being ridiculous and go to bed. 

"Not dropping me today?" he asked, the barest mutter, but he knew Eugenides would hear. 

He heard the response clearly, though perhaps not with his ears. "Stealing a man's freedom for Eugenides Attolis is an errand that I am keeping a close eye on." 

Costis's feet touched the bottom of the well. 

"So no chance I can get a hand out of here?" he asked, but the presence was gone. 

Costis made a "tsk" sound. "Typical," he said. He sat down as far away from the broken body of the dog as he could manage, and tried not to think of what could have happened to him if he had truly caused offense. 

He'd spent far too much of his life since he'd met Eugenides Attolis worrying about such things. 

But he thought he knew both Eugenideses well enough by now to be sure that treating them with the forthrightness that was native to him would never be a terrible offense. 

* * *

He sat at the bottom of the well for a long time. It grew dark. He had a lot of time to think, and only the huge body of the dog to look to for inspiration. 

He was hungry and thirsty, but although he'd kept his sword, he felt very little temptation to gut another animal and eat its raw liver. 

And that was before he began to idly wonder if this counted as the underworld, and if eating anything would trap him here. He shuddered, at that thought. 

He was under the living world. 

_If I were to die here, do I have a friend who would come and bring me back? Like Immakuk came for Ennikar?_

_Please. I don't want to spend the rest of my life in this pit, alone._

He wanted to think that Kamet would come back for him, but as the dark hours slipped by unmarked, Costis thought it more and more likely that he would not. 

He tried not to think the ungrateful thought that it was not much good to be saved from a fall just to die a longer and more torturous death. 

Then a shadow came across the bit of sky that could be seen through the hole in the well cover. 

It was Kamet! 

But the miller came back, too, and so Costis was left to climb the old and rotten rope on his own. He left his bow, eager to get to the top as fast as he could and help Kamet. 

As he stood on the ground again, two sets of terrified eyes turned on him. The miller fled, squeaking, like one of the little caggi he had hunted. 

Confused, he looked at himself, pale in the moonlight, covered in flour. 

_They must have thought I died, and came back as a specter._

_I've returned from the underworld,_ Costis thought, and laughed helplessly. _My friend came for me._

Thank Eugenides and his hand. Thank Shesmegah and her mercy. Thank Ne Malia and her moonlight and the blessing from her well. Thank Immakuk and Ennikar and the telling of their stories. Thank Miras, just for good measure. 

Any place where a soldier lay thinking he might die became an altar of Miras. Let the bow and arrows left at the bottom of the well serve as an offering of thanks to him. 

* * *

Costis knew he was not doing well, but all he could do was follow Kamet, trust Kamet and his knowledge and wits, and endure. 

Then all of Costis's attention focused, as if the universe bent it to a point. To a man in front of them, greeting them. 

"Ennikar!" Costis realized. 

"You know those stories?" Ennikar looked confused, but pleased, and put an arm around Costis to support him, like they were old friends. 

Perhaps they were. 

Costis hadn't worshiped him, per se, but then he didn't know how they prayed, in the Mede empire. Not with long chants. He knew there were little statues, figurines. He hadn't got one of those either. He hadn't had wine to dedicate, or extra food to sacrifice. Unless you counted the goat. 

Knowing Eugenides as well as he did, he couldn't be sure that leaving the fresh body of a goat under a rockslide in base terror and sheer desperation to escape pursuit after a theft _wouldn't_ be counted. 

But, that was Eugenides. And the dark-skinned man who glowed slightly around the edges but stood solidly by Costis's side was clearly Ennikar. Besides the fact that Gen had once mentioned that Eugenides was small, with the complexion of red clay, Costis could not shake the solid certainty that he was in the presence of Ennikar. 

He had felt the presence of Eugenides twice now. This was different. 

Well, in the stories, Immakuk had prostrated himself and begged the goddess of mercy for help, a goddess who had been human once herself. 

Lying on the dirt at the bottom of the well and asking for Ennikar's help seemed to have gotten him favor enough. 

They came through the gates, into the marketplaces of the city, and Ennikar and Kamet bid each other farewell. 

"How could he have known my name?" Kamet wondered aloud, looking back with confusion. 

"You saw him too?" He'd witnessed gods, but he knew _seeing_ them was more rare. 

"What? Yes, of course." Kamet still scanned the crowd. 

"He's gone now." The presence had vanished, as suddenly as, Costis now knew well, the presence of gods always did. 

* * *

In Costis's experience, though Gen knew and had talked to a number of gods, Eugenides only used the phrase "my god" to refer to one god, and that was Eugenides. 

But then, both Eugenideses were singular fellows. 

Since Costis's personal relationships with gods had begun to expand past his usual patron, Miras, he had found that it wasn't comfortable to limit himself that way. Miras was still his god, but then, so was Eugenides. 

Costis was beginning to form the philosophy that he would do best to use the phrase "my god" as easily as he used the phrase "my friend." Just as Costis found being friendly with more people was better, if often more complicated, he was beginning to find that being friendly with gods had the same kinds of advantages. 

His head was clearing as his fever left, and he watched with interest as the drama unfolded around him. As Kamet argued with Godekker. 

Godekker. That was the word that the priest of Ne Malia had used. Pay Godekker. 

Experience told Costis that when a god asked something of a mortal, the mortal had best do it as quickly and as thoroughly as was practical. Going a little beyond practical probably didn't hurt, if you wanted to keep their favor. 

Considering what both Eugenides and Ennikar had done for him just in the last few days, the gods were very interested in what Costis did on this journey. And he owed them. 

_Remember Immakuk._

_"Show us the road to mercy and forgiveness."_

Godekker had betrayed them, but like the witch of Urkull, the gods wanted him to have another chance to learn kindness. 

_Obedient to my goddess_ , Costis thought, _I will pay the fastener._

He gave Godekker all he had. 

He would be home soon enough. 

He looked forward to it. The attention of the gods, while invigorating, was also exhausting. 

_Poor Gen,_ he thought then. _The journey his god sent him on seems to have no end._

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, if you like my work you can visit me on [my fandom blog](http://qwanderer.tumblr.com) or [my novelist blog](http://irenewendywode.tumblr.com)!


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